Asylum
by The Light Holder
Summary: A dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind.
1. Frontier Psychiatrist

**Prologue, my darlings.**

**Each chapter will be titled after a song, (copying JabberjayHeart trololol) and the song for this chapter is Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches.**

* * *

**Head Gamemaker**

**Locas Slythe **

A little timidly, I knock on the door. Not once, not twice, but three times. One or two would have seemed too general, too calm, but three is quite firm. Any more than that would have sounded like some needy child.

"Locas, is that you?"

"Yes."

"Come in."

I obey automatically, briskly pushing the door open and eyeing the room before planting myself down on a chair next to President Forland's, offering a little smile that she neglects.

Forland glances at the contraption in my lap. "Hologram projector, I see. Go ahead and set it up." Without a sound, I set up the projector, angling it specifically so the hologram won't get in the way of anything.

I press my finger down on a maroon button and the entire arena displays itself before us.

The woman stands up out of her chair and begins to circle around the hologram, tapping her nail on her chin thoughtfully. Once she's cycled around about four times, she pauses and turns to face me.

"It's rather queer, at first glance. Tell me, Locas, what is it?"

"It is, to be specific, an insane asylum. A place for the mentally ill." I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "The last one was demolished during the Dark Days, but they had _many_ before Panem began. Fantastic, right?"

She doesn't smile, ignoring my last comment. "Go on."

"As you can see, there are five floors of the arena. The Cornucopia will be located on the third floor, right in the middle, and from there the tributes can choose if they would like to go up or down. They can also choose if they would like to use the stairs or the elevator, though neither are too reliable."

"What sorts of things are on the floors?" Forland questions, squinting at the small Cornucopia.

"Most of the floors are just rooms and bathrooms, though the second floor holds the cafeteria and such things. The rooms start getting more secure by the fourth floor, in which the rooms become similar to cells, with tough locks on the doors and the rooms being filled with just a bed built into the ground. Then, by the fifth floor, the rooms are simply padded cells."

"_Padded_?"

"Yes. A very long time ago, padded cells were made to ensure that the person inside didn't hurt themselves or anyone else." I explain, remembering how giddy I was when I was first told about this.

By the look in her eyes, I can tell that Forland is happy with this arena, though she never lets much emotion slip through her sharply-crafted features. "Also, President Forland, there is one more thing about this arena."

"Which is?"

I smile. "Never mind what it is. It's _brilliant_, and that's all you need to know.

* * *

**Now that I have all the tributes, the blog is ready for y'all to look at. The URL is ****asylum hg . blogspot . com**** without the spaces.**

**As a few of you may see, your tributes aren't exactly how you imagined. I apologize for this, but it's most likely because I couldn't find an exact match **_**or **_**the look-alike you gave me didn't look exactly like your tribute.**

**Also, your character shall die if you don't review. I want people that care about their tribute to be able to watch them grow and get farther into the Games and all those nice things, ya know? **

**Once you've had a little look at the blog, please answer this question:**

***Who are your eight favorite tributes, based on the blog?**

**(Along with a little explanation of why, if you don't mind.)**

**Thanks to everyone who submitted! :D **

**~That boy needs therapy; psychosomatic. The boy needs therapy; purely psychosomatic. That boy needs therapy. Lie down on the couch, what does that mean? You're a nut! You're crazy in the coconut!~**

**Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches**


	2. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

**Hello, butter-beans. I'm here with the Reapings, which shall be in the Mentor's POVs. The song for this chapter is The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service.**

**I'm copying the Mentor thingy from quite a few people, so… let's just say I'm copying a Generic Tree Friend.**

* * *

**District One**

**Sandusky Bremen**

I glare at the chattering crowd, grinding my teeth together in annoyance. Why can't they focus? Why can't they be quiet?

Why can't they be like they used to?

The One tributes used to be at the top of the food chain. The best of the best. But now we haven't had a victory in _eight _years, whereas Two has had _three _victories in the past ten years.

We're slipping, and Two is taking our place.

The escort, Genescian Hurst, silently slips her hand into the girls' bowl just as the crowd quiets down. At times, I wonder why they don't shove Genescian to a lower district, since she's so placid and obviously doesn't satisfy them very well.

"Eliza Aceveds."

The Eliza girl, whoever she is, doesn't even get a chance to stand before another girl's hand shoots up and screams out, "I volunteer!"

A tall girl begins walking towards the escort, using her hand to brush a dark curl out of her face, revealing a confident smirk plastered on her face. She doesn't look the slightest bit worried, let alone scared.

"What is your name?" Genescian questions in her monotone.

"Annie Faith," the girl spits out, letting out a bitter laugh before turning towards the crowd.

Genescian nods, dipping her hand into the boys' bowl without another word. She reads the slip, before announcing the name into the microphone. "Westin Dillard."

It's almost an exact repeat of what happened with the girls. A boy named Corduroy Mundi volunteers, and wears the same boastful smirk on his face, identical to Annie's. He stands beside the girl, though neither seem to notice each other, both too caught up in their own glory.

* * *

**District Two **

**Nichole Maddox**

"We'd better not lose again this year," I grumble to myself, picking at my nails. I manage to draw some blood on my index finger, but nothing other than that.

"_Ugh_," I survey the crowd, my eyes turning to slits when I see the twelve-year-olds giggling. "This is a very serious time. Why are they laughing?"

Allahan shrugs. "Any more goofing off and the Capitol will think we're like the idiots from One."

"I know, I know," I say, glaring at the silly-looking escort. I don't remember her name, and frankly, I don't care. "I mean, we lost last year to Seven. Seven! Granted, the boy was quite handy with an axe, but we could have won that _so easily._"

I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Yes, we did lose to Seven, but we've outshined One again and again. That _has _to count for something.

A little too wrapped up in my thoughts, I don't notice that the Reaping is in motion until a girl screeches, "I volunteer!" and begins her stride up to the stage, her face calm.

"What is – ''

"Veeka Golding," she offers her name.

The escort nods, a smirk blossoming. She reaches into the boys's bowl. "Carver Molan."

A tall, strong-looking boy awkwardly walks up to the stage, glancing behind at the crowd every now and then. He's obviously a Career, with that build, and I doubt anyone will volunteer for someone who looks so prepared.

Once the pair are announced as District Two's tributes, a wiry smile forms on Veeka's lips, and surprise registers on Carver's.

"Do you want Veeka?" Allahan asks me, eyes drilling into the two.

"Yes," I reply, beaming at the thought of working with the girl. A proper Career, a proper volunteer, and soon to be a proper Victor.

* * *

**District Three**

**Alston Wyatt**

"It's raining." Eliana murmurs.

I pause, before tipping my head up towards the sky. I don't see any rain for a few moments until a droplet lands squarely in my eye. Blinking rapidly, I manage to laugh a little before replying. "Indeed."

Eliana giggles, quite nervously, but doesn't speak any more after that. She's focused on observing our tributes this year, I suppose.

"Hello, hello, hello!" Zae Spalding squeals, beaming at the crowd. He doesn't receive the response he obviously expects, smiles and giggles and such. Instead, the children just stare at him. A very blank stare, like they're thinking of things much too important to respond at all.

Zae smacks his puffy lips together, somewhat irritably. He shoves his hand into the girls' bowl, fishing around for a few seconds before yanking one slip out. Carefully, he unfolds it. "Roryss Belcort!"

Immediately, a clump of girls separate, leaving a pale, blonde girl out in the open. The girl doesn't look very young, and I believe that she's something around seventeen or so. She rolls her eyes before stalking up to the stage, crossing her arms once she arrives there.

Just by her body language, I know I don't want to mentor her.

"Time for the boys!" Zae cackles, quickly grabbing a slip at the top of the boys' bowl. "Klaus Phillips!"

Like with the girls, a group of boys spread apart and stare at one boy in particular. The boy, whom I suppose is Klaus, freezes for a moment. Then, he _laughs. _He continues laughing for some time, before shouting out, "Holy mother of God!" and pats another boy on the back.

Then, after that little show, he walks up next to Roryss and flashes her a grin. Roryss rolls her eyes once again.

"Can I have the girl?" Eliana asks me quietly. I try my best to look disappointed, though Eliana is probably smart enough to see through it. "Alright."

Eliana seems satisfied with that, and a little smile pops onto her face. I want her to feel comfortable with her pick, like she made the right choice, though I'm positive that I'm better off with Klaus. I've seen many tributes like Roryss, and I know by now that the bitchy tributes are the worst.

I'd choose a weirdo over someone like that girl _any_ day.

* * *

**District Four**

**Maximus Dornan**

"Think we'll get two volunteers this year, Max?"

I snap my head back up, blinking a couple times to let my eyes readjust. "Ohuh?"

"I _said_," Linsette draws a ragged breath before continuing, "Do you think we'll get two volunteers?"

I promptly run my eyes over the crowd of extraordinarily eager children, a little bit surprised. Kids from Four aren't usually this excited at the Reaping; they're usually much grimmer.

"Well, maybe," I admit, watching the smug smile form on Linsette's lips. We always bet against each other over if we'll get two volunteers or one reaped and one volunteer, and this year I've decided to go with the half-and-half option. So if we _do _end up with two volunteers, I'll have to make her a sandwich.

Some people think it's ridiculous that we do this sort of thing. I guess it could seem that way, but we're just trying to find a little bit of fun in this.

"Do you think – ''

"Sh, it's starting." Linsette hushes me, turning her attention towards the escort.

Cera-Fee is her name, though I can't seem to remember her surname. I think she's new. I remember her face, but not from escorting. From… something else.

The woman carefully places her hand inside one of the two bowls, as if it's infested with virus. She gently plucks a slip near the top out of the bowl, and clears her throat while she reads it.

"Jesline Nabbity?"

The way she says it sounds so similar to a question that nobody's quite aware she just reaped someone. All of the girls begin to spread apart to reveal whoever Jesline is until a small voice speaks up.

"I volunteer." I see an incredibly small girl walking up to the escort. She can't be older than fourteen, looking to be around five feet tall and her limbs looking like sticks. Once she's closer towards the stage, I see that her eyes are bloodshot. Not frantic, probably just tired or something like that.

"My name is Lilianna Vansing." The girl speaks before Cera-Fee can question her name.

"I'll take her, okay?" I whisper to Linsette, not waiting for a response. It may be partially because she's a volunteer and there's a good chance that the boy won't be, but there's something about the little girl that just draws me to her. She's… alluring in a way, if that makes any sense.

Cera-Fee nods before quickly grabbing a slip for the boys, ignoring whatever bothered her with the girls' bowl. She opens up the slip in silence, before letting her gaze fall over the crowd. "Trawl Incritus?"

The majority of the kids smile. A few of them laugh, and soon enough one boy is shoved forward, rather roughly.

He's obviously nervous, and the way that the other kids are treating him doesn't make anything better. He glances backwards as a few snicker, and stumbles onto the stage.

Nobody volunteers for the boy, signifying my victory.

Maybe I can even share my sandwich with Lilianna.

* * *

**District Five**

**Fleur Marketine**

Regilla lets her hand poke around in the girls' bowl for a few terrible moments, until drawing out one slip in particular. She smiles, nodding her head a bit while reading it, before glancing up at the audience.

"Sally Reynolds!"

At once, the girls split apart to stare at an awfully small girl. I would think that she was twelve or so, but her physical qualities are much older than that. Sixteen at the least.

Sally moves forward stiffly, and doesn't even bother to hide the quickly-increasing look of fear on her face. Once she's shuffled onto the stage, her shockingly blue eyes are wide and glassy-looking, like she's in shock.

Regilla observes the girl for a moment with a look of pity, before she reaches into the boys' bowl and snatches up a slip.

"Tobias Evers!"

To my bewilderment, none of the boys shuffle apart. Everyone stays still.

But then I spot a little boy standing by himself, noticeably farther away from everyone else. His eyes are wide open, the fear in them quite protrusive, but manages to keep a calm pace while walking to the stage.

Only then do I see one boy's lips curling upwards into a wicked smile. He waits until Tobias is nearest to him, then begins his short taunt. "_To_bias_ Ev_ers!"

The way that the boy pronounces Tobias's name sounds so strange that I don't understand what I'm hearing for a moment. But then, once I see most of the other kids snickering, I realize that it must be an inside joke of some sort. An inside taunt, really, directed at Tobias.

"Which do you want?" a voice speaks, alarming me a bit.

I turn towards Ryker, pretty surprised that he spoke at all. He's usually just silent. All day, every day.

"Um." I observe the tributes one last time, though I was already sure which one I wanted to mentor. "Tobias, if you don't mind."

"I don't." Ryker assures me, a somewhat sarcastic tone mixed into his voice. I'm sure he's at least a little bitter-minded that I took the taller tribute, even if it's just by a few inches. For some reason, Ryker usually chooses the taller tribute, no matter what.

Come to think of it, this is the first time he's even let me pick my first-choice.

* * *

**District Six**

**Ingrid Sallow**

"And the lucky young woman representing District Six this year is..." Gary takes a purposely long pause before announcing the name, like he _always _does, "Emeriday Linzbet!"

The rather large clump of fourteen-year-old girls part through the middle, leaving a petite blonde-haired girl out in the open. She's in a daze of some sort, clearly, since her head is tilted completely upwards, her glare concentrated on the sky. Quite abruptly, the girl drops to her knees, screaming at the sky.

Nobody moves for a solid moment, perhaps out of fear. Two Peacekeepers amble over to Emeriday and grab both of her arms, dragging her to the stage in a brisk fashion.

But once she's reached the stage, the girl has gone silent.

Gary glances over at Emeriday, as if keeping a watch on her, before greedily cramming his hand into a bowl and seizing a slip.

"The fortunate young man representing District Six this year is…" he does the pause, _again_, "Bentley Tattle!"

Everyone's heads turn to a boy in the very back row, whom I guess is Bentley. He blinks a few times, before he slowly begins making his way over to the stage, examining everyone around him. Once he's on the stage, with everyone's eyes boring into him, Bentley gives a little smile.

"I'll have the boy," Odette states, her eyes fixated on the Emeriday, still being held by the two Peacekeepers, staring mindlessly into the distance.

"So you're leaving me with the crazy?" I groan, narrowing my eyes at Odette.

Odette doesn't respond. Great. I have the _freak_ this time around.

* * *

**District Seven**

**Axel Loughty**

There's a nervous silence in the air as Habbot reads the slip. Seems like he reads it over again and again, and I'm instantly reminded of my very own Reapings. The last one was just the previous year, after all.

I'm going to be a terrible mentor. I just know it. Eventually, I'll grow into it, but absolutely nobody does a good job their first year.

I pity whoever receives me as a mentor.

"Ameer Maybre." The words snap me out of my thoughts, and I watch as a path clears for a little twelve-year-old. The boy is trembling, maybe even crying, or at least on the verge of it.

"I volunteer!" a frantic cry rings out, and yet another young boy steps forward. He glances at the slightly younger boy, a loving glint in his eyes. The other boy looks a little confused, but seems to accept the situation just as the older boy steps onto the stage.

"Your name?"

"Cecis Jay."

Cecis doesn't look to be related to the little boy in the slightest bit, but that doesn't mean anything. I'm proud of that boy – I _admire _him, even.

Much braver than I could _ever_ be.

Habbot sends a smile at the boy, possibly to reassure him, before choosing a slip out of the girls' bowl.

"Brynley Heilge."

A horde of girls separate almost instantaneously, and plant their gazes on a very small, pale fourteen-year-old, obviously Brynley. She just stands there, petrified for a few long moments. But then she starts moving forward, slowly but surely, with sad little tears running down her cheeks.

The poor girl. She doesn't meet anyone's eyes, just stares off into the distance. Once Habbot announces Brynley and Cecis as the District Seven tributes, they turn to face each other. I watch Cecis shake her hand gently, and give a small, consoling smile. But Brynley doesn't return it. Looks like she didn't even see the gesture, since her expression is so blank.

* * *

**District Eight**

**Zayden Ferrari**

"Seraphine Ceren!"

He says it with such enthusiasm, so damn _cheerfully, _that I can tell it's fake. Same with the outstretched grin that appears once the crowd splits and unveils a redheaded girl, her eyes wide.

She doesn't need someone to push her forward; Seraphine slowly but surely makes her way up onto the stage. Once she's there, she gives a nervous smile, before staring down at her feet.

As expected, nobody volunteers for the girl. Herbert keeps the phony beam whilst plucking out a slip for the male. He unfolds it eagerly, and reads it over a few times.

"Coir Jute!"

A rather husky squeal emits from somewhere deep in the crowd, and I watch as a dark-haired boy runs up onto the stage, out of breath once he's actually up there.

After a little speech from Herbert, Coir and Seraphine shake hands as I turn to Lazaret, who's eyeing the tributes, a calculating glare in the darkness of her eyes. Once the two are already leaving towards the Justice Building, I see that Coir looks elated, bouncing up and down, whereas Seraphine is slouching.

"Take Coir," Lazaret mutters, pointing a pale finger at the boy.

I don't question it, since I know by now that Lazaret prefers the young underdog as opposed to a perfectly able possible-Victor. I always take the latter, and I've suggested to Lazaret that she do the same. That is, after all, how she won the Games at all. With _my _mentoring.

* * *

**District Nine**

**Trent Millian **

The grim-faced teenagers stand beside each other, glaring into the cameras with acceptance of the situation just _smeared_ across their faces. Damien has a little bit of anger mixed into his expression, whereas Elimaris looks to be completely accepting of the situation.

I know both of the kids, since I know most of the people in this district. Neither are too friendly, though both are considerably level-headed.

"Vera, who do you want?" I inquire, deciding to let my friend choose her tribute this time around, since she's usually kind enough to give me first dibs.

"Damien," Vera murmurs, abruptly raising her icy gaze to the boy stomping into the Justice Building. "Talked to him before. He'll do good."

I nod, smiling as I realize I have Elimaris. "We have some adequate tributes this year, huh?"

"Very much so," Vera muses, crossing her arms before slouching her shoulders.

"Maybe we'll even have a Victor this year."

* * *

**District Ten**

**Hadley Journes **

"I present to you… Draven Thayer and Leslie Hawkins."

I perk my head up a little, blinking a few times to get the haze out of my eyes.

I glance over at Furmant, who's staring at the stage with furrowed eyebrows. My gaze follows his, eventually landing on two kids – whom I'm guessing are Ten's tributes this year. There's a lanky, rather handsome boy along with a tall brunette.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Furmant replies, smiling softly. "Two volunteers this year. Who would have thought?"

"Are you shitting me?" I exclaim, my eyes widening at the thought of _two _ready, capable tributes, as opposed to the whining brats we usually receive. Furmant laughs a little, seeming pretty happy about our tributes as well.

I squint my eyes at the two, being led into the Justice Building. "Leslie – all the dead kids in her family, right?"

Furmant nods. "I don't know about Draven, though."

"Then figure it out." I smirk, turning to Furmant. "You can have him. I'll take Leslie."

* * *

**District Eleven**

**Byrony Wales**

A very little boy named Mouse. Brash and stubborn, from what I can tell. He stomped up onto the stage quite angrily, and pouted while his partner's name, Ivy Jones, was plucked from the other bowl.

Ivy didn't move. She just stood there, hyperventilating, until a Peacekeeper grabbed her and _dragged _her to the stage. Once she was there, Ivy didn't make a sound. She stared at the crowd, at the cameras, with terror etched across her face, frozen until Mouse made a snarky remark about her obvious fear.

Even then, she didn't say anything. She turned her face to stare at Mouse for a minute before bringing her gaze over to me. And that's where it remains as she and Mouse shake hands.

Her stare is like a knife in my heart, big innocent brown eyes glistening with tears, and I'm going to do my best to help her. Daryl will do the same for Mouse, I know.

"I take it you want Ivy," Daryl speaks, her eyes also boring into our tributes, whom are now shuffling into the Justice Building.

"Yes," I reply quietly. "Are you alright with Mouse?"

"Of course," Daryl responds instantly, "I don't think he's actually a brat. Probably just scared, and that's all he's got to defend himself."

Daryl and I start to stand, about to be sent on our way to the train, yet we continue talking. "They're both scared, I'm pretty sure. Who wouldn't be, coming from their age group and district?" _I _was terrified when I was reaped so many years ago, and I was seventeen.

Two littlies from one of the lowest districts, one silent and the other a loudmouth. How very interesting this will be.

* * *

**District Twelve**

**Ameri Darsley**

There's a volunteer, something I don't recall ever happening before.

A very small girl was reaped, probably thirteen or fourteen. Once she was up on the stage, she just fell over.

That's when the older girl came running up, out of breath but with a comforting smile on her face. She hugged the younger girl, and said her name was Kesha Greg. And still she stands with the large grin, beside her district partner.

Rayvon, though I don't remember his surname. He was blank, completely expressionless while trotting up next to Kesha.

He even looked a little _bored, _unheard of in District Twelve. Usually our tributes are kneeling on the ground sobbing, not smiling or looking calm.

Part of me feels grateful for not receiving two weeping children, getting these level-headed teenagers instead, but another part of me is terrified. I can barely handle two crybabies. I don't want to ruin everything for these two.

But here they stand, right in front of me, both staring into the crowd as the escort dubs them District Twelve's tributes. As the applause weakens, Rayvon marches off into the Justice Building. Kesha blinks a few times before offering another twinkling smile, skipping over to the Justice Building after him.

They're either psychopaths or contenders. Either way, they're screwed with me as a mentor.

* * *

**Well, that took five-ever. Sorry! D:**

**Some are super short, I know, but I hate Reapings. Doing it in this format was slightly more enjoyable, but I no like Reapings.**

**Anywhoodle, I put alliances on the blog because I have zero self-control. Whoops.**

**Which Reapings stood out to you the most, my ducklings?**

**Welp, see you in the pre-Games!**

**~The district sleeps alone tonight after the bars turn out their lights, and send the autos swerving into the loneliest evening. And I am finally seeing why I was the one worth leaving~**

**The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service**


	3. Wake Up

**Sup, bros! The Chariots are here!**

**There shall be nine POVs this chapter, and the song is Wake Up by Arcade Fire. **

**Oh yeah, bee tee dubs, this is the 34****th**** Hunger Games. It doesn't matter too much to me, but if you care then there it is! :D**

* * *

**District Seven**

**Brynley Heilge**

I lean against the wall, my knees tucked under my chin and my arms wrapped around my legs, a storm of thoughts travelling through my mind.

Just as a small voice speaks up. "Brynley?"

I don't want to respond. I don't want to say anything, because I still need time to think. I just need to _think_, and then maybe I'll be able to raise my hopes, even by just a little.

But as much as I don't feel like socializing right now, I force myself to turn my head towards Cecis, a warm smile planted into my face.

"Yeah, Cecis?"

"I'm scared," Cecis says meekly, his eyes practically drowning in tears. "I'm really, _really _scared."

Though I'm quite tempted to say something funny, I quickly decide it's best not to do so, mostly out of fear that he won't laugh. Instead, I unfold out of my position and walk across the room to Cecis, sitting down next to him and placing an arm around his shoulder. It's a bit of an awkward gesture, since Cecis is taller than me, but somewhat appropriate with his tears and our age difference.

"Don't be scared," I instruct, taking my role as the comforter. "They're going to love you because you're little and adorable, and they're going to love you because you're very brave for volunteering. They're just going to love you, and that's that. Okay?"

Cecis doesn't respond, but puts up a slightly stronger composure. "But what if they don't?"

"They will_._"

"What if they hate me and I die?"

That stuns me for a moment, since I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to say to that sort of thing.

In all honesty, there is a good chance that Cecis will die. There's a good chance I'll die too, but I can't think about all those kinds of things yet. I need to make a strategy, I need to make a _plan, _but in order to do that I need to think.

And I _still _don't have time to think just yet.

"Brynley, Cecis," a voice addresses Cecis and I loudly, and I glance up to see my mentor, Axel, looking pretty nervous himself. "You have to go get prepped now."

I watch as Cecis's face pales almost immediately.

The idea doesn't appeal to me too much either, but I manage to shove my own worries downwards, hoping I'll never see them again. After all, this is going to be my life for something around a week. This is all I'll know, and I'd better get used to it.

* * *

**District Five**

**Sally Reynolds**

"Hi," I murmur, trying my best to be friendly.

Out of the two women, neither say anything back to me. They ignore it, continuing to examine me. I squirm a bit under their stares, fixing my gaze into the shining floor.

"You have nice eyes," the taller woman states flatly, and I snap my head back up to see her narrowed eyes glaring into my wide, frightened ones.

"Thank you," I breathe.

Instead of replying, the woman rolls her eyes, then whips her head around to start spitting out orders at the other woman. I don't listen in, but find myself focusing on the smaller woman's nails.

They are all incredibly long, painted a brilliant bright red. But one of them, the pinky on her left hand, is different. It's a dark crimson, and it stands out against the others.

It doesn't belong, it doesn't belong at all.

After a few minutes, I force myself to look away from the nail, in order to remain reasonably sane.

Rather abruptly, my hair is yanked back. I assume that one of the women is running a brush through it, since I hear the familiar sound of just that. "Your hair doesn't have many tangles," the smaller woman says, possibly meant as a compliment. I don't respond.

I look a little off to the side, and watch the taller woman tying her hair up into a ponytail. "Alright, let's start running the bath, shall we?"

* * *

**District One**

**Corduroy Mundi**

This is so _boring_.

The man keeps racking his comb through my hair, which is terribly pointless since my hair is so short. I don't see any reason why he's combing my hair. No reason at all.

_How long will this go on? _I'm becoming quite annoyed by this entire situation.

"Fergesen, I think that's enough," a small woman squeaks, slapping the comb out of the man's hand. "We should probably get him into his outfit, you know."

The man growls something, which the woman takes as an agreement. She shuffles towards a rack, taking a sealed plastic bag off of it, and makes her way towards me after it's in her hand. She slips her hand inside the bag before grabbing onto something and pulling it out. Once it's in my range of sight, all I can see is sparkles. Thousands and thousands of glittering little diamonds, all glued to pale fabric.

"Here, put this on," she instructs, handing me the outfit. I obey, glancing down until I'm practically blinded by the sparkling, and looking into the mirror to see how I look.

It's stunning, literally. I have to blink much more than normal whilst staring at myself, but I suppose the bedazzled suit will appeal to the Capitol and their strange fashions.

_It hurts my eyes. _"It's _truly _captivating, thank you _so _much."

She smiles, giving a little clap before pointing at the door, and obvious signal that it's my time to leave.

_Rude little bitch. _I grin back at her, stepping through the doors casually. Instantly, I spy Annie leaning against the wall in a dress bedazzled like my suit, eyes narrowed and angry.

"Well, you're awfully bitter for someone who looks so _bedazzling_," I tease, standing beside her. She doesn't say anything back to me, but snorts. Very ladylike indeed.

"Let's just go," she hisses, grabbing my arm and yanking me out to the launch pad. I cry out a bit in surprise at her grip, and, thankfully, it loosens.

Annie doesn't say a word as we're surrounded by other tributes, just stomps off to our chariot. I don't follow her, keeping an eye out for any of our allies.

_Focus. _I examine every tribute, every district-themed outfit, and see that half of the tributes are here. Us, Four, Seven, Eight, Ten, and Twelve. Out of everyone here, only the Four tributes are part of the alliance, and they don't look too promising.

_One is little and the other is reaped. Pathetic. _

The girl, Lilianna, is leaning against the sea-themed chariot, looking pretty deflated. Her eyes are tired and sad, and her body language just seems… weak.

_Won't last a day and won't fight. Won't do anything but cry, that one, by the looks of it. _

And Trawl is _reaped_. That alone says enough.

Not too good from Four, not too good at all. _They'll cry when I tear into their eyes, they'll scream when I rip open their necks. They'll be sorry for not being good enough for me, they'll be really really sorry._

* * *

**District Three**

**Roryss Belcort**

I'm ready before Klaus is, and I don't hesitate to abandon him and walk over to the chariots by myself.

Independent, you'll hear people say, but it's not true. I just don't _need_ people.

I roll my eyes once I realize that mostly everyone else is here. Everybody except Klaus and the pair from Nine. I try to recall what little information I got from Nine's Reapings and remember two grim-faced teenagers, and that's all.

Staring straight ahead, I hear the excited breathing much sooner than he expects me to.

I whip my head around with a smirk, narrowing my eyes once they settle on Klaus's pale face. He was trying to scare me, obviously, but it's not very easy to trick me. And even then, I don't get very frightened by anything.

Klaus manages to keep a straight face for about fifteen seconds before bursting out laughing. "Rory, how'd you know it was me?"

I grit my teeth together, closing my eyes for a few moments before replying. "I _guessed_."

That just leads onto another laughing fit, this one even more annoying.

"Could you shut up?"

In between giggles, "No!"

But then, the countdown to launch begins and I'm saved. Klaus turns silent once he hears the husky _ten _echo throughout the launching room, and up ahead I watch the tributes from One readying themselves.

In the moment in between three and two, many different emotions flash across Klaus's face. The only ones I could catch were excitement, terror, and confusion before he turns to me.

"Rory, do you think we should hold hands?"

I snort, crossing my arms over my chest and laughing at the ridiculous proposition.

Klaus furrows his eyebrows, retrieving the confused expression I saw a few moments ago. "Is that a no?"

I open my mouth to reply, but am instead pulled along into the flashing lights. I groan, turning my head to see what Klaus is doing only to find the imbecile with his big cheerful smile and happy eyes. Happy. Why is he happy? Tributes from Three are _not _supposed to be happy during the chariots.

I give a sarcastic little smile at the crowd before returning to my usual posture, arms crossed and eyes cold.

* * *

**District Two**

**Veeka Golding**

The people – the annoying people, might I add – scream out my name repeatedly, along with Carver's.

Even after Three comes out, their attention is still aimed at us. It isn't really much of a surprise due to Three's lack in popularity, but I still don't like it very much. It's not that I want the attention turned towards Three, that's not it at all, it's just I don't want it on _me._

"Fucking _morons_," Carver grumbles beside me, his eyes flickering towards me before returning to the crowd and pasting the phony smile back on. I don't respond, mostly because I don't really care enough to respond.

I had no idea who Carver was until he was reaped, which threw me off a little since I know mostly everyone in Two. Not that I'm some social butterfly or anything, and not that I necessarily care all that much, but I enjoy new information.

From what I can tell, Carver is a little bit like me, in terms of coldness and wit. We don't have much of a relationship, but he does mutter comments to me every now and then, which I don't reply to. What's the need? The comments don't affect me, or offend me, so there's no reason to say anything back.

I breathe a small sigh of relief once Four comes out and the attention automatically shifts towards them. The peculiar pair stand tall, Lilianna smiling rather shyly at her feet and Trawl managing a shaky, nervous one.

Carver opens his mouth, and I immediately expect him to use his catchphrase of 'fucking moron' when he surprises me.

"Two little ones," he muses, looking at me for a minute, obviously wondering if I'm going to say anything at all.

"Yes, there are a lot of younger tributes this year, the majority of them being fourteen," my voice is barely above a whisper, but Carver accepts this as I continue, "Actually, Trawl isn't little. He does, however, give off the aspect of being younger than he actually is, with his constant nervousness and trembling."

"Congratulations, you've spoken for the first time since the Reaping."

His sarcastic tone makes me smile, weirdly enough. In fact, I even allow myself a hollow laugh. How very out of character.

* * *

**District Nine**

**Damien Grayson**

"I _hate _this."

I keep repeating it, mostly since I want to see if I can draw some kind of emotion out of Elimaris, but also because it's true and I want that to be known.

So I tilt my head towards Elimaris, examining her grim face. Strange. Half the time she doesn't seem to give a damn about anything or anyone, and the other half she's doing her best to protect herself in this determined, stony way.

"There isn't much _to_ hate right now," Elimaris speaks, watching as the District Five chariot takes off. "We're not even out in the open yet."

I pause for a moment, happy with my victory over making her talk, before replying. "I just hate it as a whole. I hate this costume, I hate watching the other tributes, and I hate these stupid ugly horses."

"Why do you hate the horses?"

I turn my glare towards the things, poking the smaller one with my index finger. "This one tried to kick me."

Elimaris just sighs, deciding not to respond to me. She looks ahead instead, staring as the rather nervous District Seven pair take off into the spotlight, dressed as trees once again. I don't think there's ever been a year when they _weren't _trees, and frankly, it's just sad now.

"The boy volunteered," Elimaris murmurs, obviously not talking to me but just leaving it in the air. "I don't know why."

This time, I don't say anything, but Elimaris doesn't seem to mind too much.

In our silence, District Eight launch out into the public, both smiling and waving their arms around. They're dressed in unattractive mismatched pieces of cloth, and it's almost as bad as the District Seven trees.

There's a little bit of a pause, but soon enough Elimaris and I are thrown into the limelight, our hideous costumes on show and our phony smiles shining.

* * *

**District Twelve**

**Rayvon Chase**

It's really quite irritating to always be last, just because of where you come from. It annoys me to watch all the other districts be able to go on and get it over with, while I have to wait and be saved for last.

It doesn't help that this entire time I've been stuck next to an unusually perky girl that won't shut up with her meaningless little comments about everything_._

I could put up with it at first. I can tell that Kesha is just trying to lighten the mood, maybe get me to come out of my shell a bit, but I'm not like that. I'm not outgoing or friendly or oh-so-sweet with a little country accent that I'm not even sure _how_ she acquired.

"District Eleven's costumes are _so _pretty this year," Kesha squeals with delight, her wide eyes planted on the District Eleven chariot before us.

"They look like ugly old farmers."

She turns to me, her head cocked, and grins from ear to ear. "They're agriculture, silly! It's supposed to be like that!"

I blink a few times, before sighing. "Whatever floats your boat, kid."

Kesha smiles once again, her brilliant white teeth glowing even in the darkness. She oohs and ahs with the crowd as the District Eleven chariot is illuminated in the bright lights, before we're pulled along right behind them.

I narrow my eyes when the spotlight first shines on me and only me, until my eyes begin to adjust to the unnatural brightness and I can see much more clearly. Though I'm loathing every minute of this so far, I manage to smile just out of the sheer determination inside me.

_Hate this, hate this, hate this._

To my relief, our dust-covered chariot pulls up soon enough, and then we're treated to an oh-so-important speech from President Forland, which I have no desire to hear whatsoever.

I have to keep myself from crying out in glee once we're finally _finished._

* * *

**District Six**

**Bentley Tattle**

"Did you know that some honeybee queens quack?"

I turn around, facing a wide-eyed and smiling Emeriday.

"Huh?"

Emeriday's smile grows bigger, and she doesn't seem annoyed in the slightest for having to repeat whatever it is she said. "Some honeybee queens quack."

I process the information, and ponder it a little. But, desperate to get out of here and back to our floor, I take Emeriday's small hand and begin leading her to the elevator.

"Where'd you find that out?" I question, though not in an intimidating, disbelieving way. I speak with care and quite honestly, I _do _want to know where she learned that interesting piece of information.

"A book," she answers, narrowing her eyes in concentration. "Don't remember which one, but it _was _a book for sure."

"I believe you," I say, because I do. I press my finger down on the elevator button, and in a snap the elevator doors open. I step inside, and Emeriday stands right next to me.

"Oh, right, we're on the sixth floor," Emeriday says, whistling some complicated tune as she flips – literally, does a cartwheel or some other kind of flip – over to the glowing number six and pushes down on it.

She turns back to me, before her eyes drift towards my feet.

"Why are you doing that?" she points a finger at my foot, which I glance down at and realize I'm tapping on the ground.

"I like being able to move, that's all."

"Oh," Emeriday says, laughing a little. "Did you know that I don't have a liver?"

"What?"

"I don't have a liver. My brother cut it out of me."

"Really? That's kind of mean," I furrow my eyebrows, trying to wrap my mind around this. Emeriday has a liver, _obviously_, but if she thinks she doesn't then… I'm not sure.

"Did you know that peanut butter can be converted into a diamond?" Emeriday asks me, though it isn't really meant as a question. More of a statement, really, that she wants to share with me. And I'm okay with that, because I like sharing and I like Emeriday.

The elevator _dings_, announcing that we've reached our floor. Emeriday rushes inside, and I follow in tow after my newfound friend.

* * *

**District Eleven**

**Mouse Goven**

I pace around the tiny space of the elevator, staring at my feet to make sure I don't trip but still knocking into Ivy every once in a while.

"Why does our floor have to be so far away?" I shout, stopping to bang my fist against the wall, before returning to my pacing. I usually pace only when I'm nervous like I am right now.

Nervous about what kind of impression I've made, nervous about how Training is going to go tomorrow.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Ivy. She's completely and absolutely still, staring straight ahead and never moving at all. Moving my head to get a little bit of a better look, I see hertrembling.

"Stop shaking, you _baby_!" I snarl at her. The insult registers inside her, I can tell, but she doesn't say nor do anything.

I know she heard it, but she doesn't _react _in any way. Outwardly, I mean. It hurts her feelings, that much is clear, and for once I allow remorse to seep through my mind. The elevator doors ding, but I ignore them.

I take a deep breath before taking a sheepish step towards Ivy, settling soon afterwards and standing beside her. I don't face her, since I'm too cowardly to do that, but I do address her. You have to give me points for that, at least.

"Okay, so I know I've kind of been mean. Well, not kind of, I've been really mean. But I don't mean it, I promise! I just get like that when I'm mad or sad or something. That's why I keep making fun of you, I just do that. It's something I've always done, and you were always just the nearest person so… sorry."

After my little speech, I flash her a big smile.

Ivy offers, for the first time ever, a timid smile back. "It's fine, Mouse. Really."

So I stick out my hand, and wait for her to reciprocate. After a moment's hesitation, Ivy presents her hand as well, and we shake on it.

* * *

**Oh, god, I took way too long with this. I'm so sorry! But alas, I'm getting a laptop for Christmas and after I have that updates should be much quicker.**

**What POVs stuck out to you, my chickadees? Do you have a better grasp on who you like and who you don't like now?**

**(I feel like a reality TV show host when I ask these questions. **_**Will Roryss and Klaus ever become friends? Did Emeriday's brother indeed cut out her liver? Why are everyone's district partners so quiet? Find out next time on Big Brother!**_**)**

**~Now that I'm older, my heart's colder, and I can see that it's a lie. Children, wake up. Hold your mistake up before they turn the summer into dust ~**

**Wake Up by Arcade Fire**


	4. Teenagers

**Hey there, young cahuna-children!**

**********The song is Teenagers by My Chemical Romance, and yeah, that's about it.**

* * *

**District Four**

**Trawl Incritus**

"Can you wake up Lilianna?"

My head snaps up, quickly turning to the side to see Maximus standing in my doorway, a gentle smile on his face and his arms still at his sides.

"Yes," I reply, scooping up my water-bottle carefully and shuffling out the doorway before Maximus can add anything else. He doesn't want to, though, judging from the way he waits, not bothering to say any additional information or tasks.

I don't know Lilianna. Not really, just heard of her. She smiled at me when we first got on the train, while I was crying, but other than that? Nothing.

So I twist the doorknob, quietly as if I don't want to wake her. When the door finally does open,_silently_, I may add, I have to blink my eyes to let them readjust, since it's _so _very dark in Lilianna's room. No lights are turned on, no blinds are pulled open just a tad to allow any sunlight to peek through, none of that. It's pitch-black when I walk in and I stumble around for a while until my hand clumsily finds the light switch, flipping it on as quickly as I can.

I jump a bit, slightly startled once two dark eyes open and Lilianna climbs out of her blankets, walking into the hall groggily without even acknowledging or greeting me.

Well, maybe she's just shy. I'm shy myself, so I guess I can relate to her alright.

_She's a little scary, you know._

"She isn't _scary,_ Slipper," I say, letting out a soft laugh. "She's just... herself. And there's nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong at all."

* * *

**District Eight**

**Coir Jute**

"These pancakes are absolutely divine, aren't they Lazaret?" Seraphine says cheerfully, beaming down at her golden pancakes which are just about drowning in sweet syrup. She reaches out for her cup of apple juice, bobbing her head to some little tune, whilst glancing expectantly at Lazaret, obviously waiting for some sort of an answer.

"They're lovely," Lazaret answers awkwardly, the displeasure of having to be even somewhat talkative clear on her features. She doesn't seem to have tasted her pancakes yet, however, shoving her fork into random places and just simply playing around with her food.

I suppose she just isn't hungry. I'm not really too hungry myself; I had a humongous dinner last night, but I'll need the energy for Training.

Plus, Zayden suggested that I have at least one very large meal a day, to make sure that I stay well-fed up until the Games. Maybe even gain a bit of extra weight, since I've always been a little on the thin side and for all I know I could starve in the arena.

"Yes, that's the word!" Seraphine giggles, biting into a piece. "They are _so _lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely, I could say it all day! I just love that word, don't you all love it too? You can use it for anything, really, and it's all just so _lovely_!"

"That's a very, um, positive way of thinking," Lazaret says somewhat encouragingly, taking a sip of orange juice.

"But would it help her in the arena?" Zayden whispers to me, meeting my gaze with a smirk. No, as a matter of fact, it wouldn't. It would do Seraphine no good at all to be like this during the Games, but it might just help her find some allies during these Training days. Personally, I don't really search for friendly sorts of people to befriend, but not everyone is quite like me after all. I knew plenty of people back in Eight who adored Seraphine, so maybe her overbearing traits actually will he of some help. At least for now.

I mean, it's not like I necessarily care, but it's fun to think about. The Games in general are fun to think about, really.

People are always complaining about them nonstop, and it really does annoy me. We rebelled and this is our punishment, and that's that. There is no other choice, there's no changing anything so why bother complaining? Besides, they're interesting. The Victors are _very _lucky people, too. They get to live in big houses, eat as much food as they want, and be famous for the rest of their lives. That's more than I could ever ask for, and they take it all for granted.

"Coir, can you pass me the apple juice?" Lazaret asks me, cutting up a rather small pancake that she no doubt has no intention on eating.

"Sure thing," I reply, reaching over to grasp the handle on the pitcher then setting it down near Lazaret's plate, simply because Lazaret is in a position of authority.

She pours the juice into the cup, almost mindlessly, and I turn my stare to the clock on the wall. "What time does Training start?"

"About five minutes. You two should probably leave now," Zayden says. I get up out of my seat at once; I definitely do not want to be late to the first Training day. What kind of impression would that leave? Plus, I've never handled a proper weapon and I'm practically _dying _to get my hands on at least a knife today.

* * *

**District Ten**

**Leslie Hawkins**

Sally Reynolds, District Five. Seventeen years old. Reaped. The most noticeable thing about her is that she's incredibly small, probably standing around the same height as I was when I was ten. Always seems very nervous, is now slouching in the corner of the elevator with her eyes darting around at everyone. Not a threat, from what I can tell, other than the possible mental unstable state of mind, though it's too early to tell just yet.

Mouse Goven, District Eleven. Thirteen years old. Reaped. Very small and very thin, much like both Sally and his district partner. A loudmouth and a brat, the kind of kid that would steal your toys and break them from what I've collected. Treats his district partner like a punching bag, though she doesn't seem to mind all that much. Is now glaring at me, his eyes narrowed like some toddler preparing to throw a fit. Not a threat, since he's only little.

The elevator lets out a _ding_, announcing our arrival. I am the first from our group to step into the room, eyeing all of the tributes already sitting on the ground and calmly find a place in the back of the crowd.

I believe that we were the last few to show up; the pairs from both Five and Eleven, along with Draven and me.

A woman begins talking, but I don't pay very much attention. Instead, I survey the people around me, and they are really _all _around me.

In front of me is the female from One, Annie Faith. Eighteen years old, a volunteer. The typical Career, from what I've seen so far, but a little bit less... _flamboyant. _Other than that, she's the picture-perfect Career bitch.

_Nasty, backstabbing, rotten little fuckers they are._

"Alright, tributes, you all better get to the actual training. Remember, absolutely no fighting of any sort."_  
_

I rise at once, carrying myself over to the plants station. I went over my plan for each Training day last night; plants and knots before lunch and save weaponry until after lunch. This way, I can observe everyone up until lunchtime, then after I'm fully energized I can get my hands on a weapon of my own.

I sit in front of the plants station and let my eyes wash over every safe plant. Though I do have a remarkable memory, I've decided to only memorize the safe plants, and just assume that every other plant is poisonous. It will be much easier this way, I'll spend less time memorizing and more time observing if I plan my strategy just correctly.

I'm at the rear of the station, the females from Nine and Three have apparently joined me. Roryss is focusing on the safe plants, like me, whereas Elimaris seems to pay more attention towards the dangerous ones.

About five minutes later, when I've memorized about three plants efficiently enough, I let my eyes drift around the Training room. All the Careers are training in weaponry, of _course. _Annie seems to be leading the group, while Lilianna and Trawl are lagging behind. They're not the same, clearly, but I guess that the others in the alliance feel it necessary to have both form Four in order to make six. That, or the kids are useful for something else. Sacrifices, maybe?

I wouldn't be too surprised, they've done much worse in the past years.

"Are you paying any attention to your plants?" a sharp voice snaps, and I instantly turn my head back towards my station, my eyes narrowed in irritation. The instructor is glaring at me, her eyes narrowed as well. Out of the corner of my sight, I watch the idiot boy from Three galloping towards my station.

"What's it to you?" the few words are enough to get her off my back, and enough to let me return to my observations.

* * *

**District Three**

**Klaus Phillips**

"Rory, don't you think we should be in an alliance?"

"_No_."

"But... why not?"

Roryss stands, abandoning her comfortable-looking position at the plants station. "Klaus, I do not, have never, and will never like you in the slightest bit. Get lost."_  
_

My features threaten to contort themselves into a frown, but I manage to keep my smile. I don't respond to her harsh words, though they _did _hurt just a little bit, and decide maybe it's best to leave Roryss alone for a while. She's probably really stressed, and really scared, so I should just let her be until she's okay again.

I step away from my friend, letting her be at her own station. Well, there goes that idea. I glance around the room in search of a new station, not wanting to be out in the open for too long. I do enjoy my little part of the spotlight, but not right now. It wouldn't be fun right now.

And fun comes first, _always._

Quickly, before anyone notices that I'm looking a bit lost, I sprint over to the knives station. It's sort of near the center of the room, but most people are trying out survival stations or the bigger weapons. Most notably the Careers, each trying out the spear. They're all crowded around the station as the boy from District Two has a go at the thing, and whilst he isn't too shabby, the target that he hits doesn't seem to be Career-material.

I feel bad for him, the way his eyebrows furrow and the depression radiating off of him. _I'm sorry. You'll do better next time, I promise._

"Whatcha looking at?"

I turn my head in the direction of the friendly-sounding voice, and find myself staring down at the girl from Six, her district partner standing beside her.

"The Careers," I reply, and crane my head towards them once more. Now the boy from One is throwing the spear, and of course it's a perfect shot. Two stares at the ground in embarrassment.

"Oh, but why? There are many other things to look at in here," the girl speaks, and soon her gaze begins travelling all around the room. Her head stop tilting suddenly, and a grin spreads across her face as she points at something. "Look, right there."

I follow the direction her finger points to, but all I see is a dummy's head being split open by an arrow, via the girl from Twelve.

"It's just a recently deceased dummy." I say blankly, squinting to see if I've missed anything.

"Well, yes," the girl admits, tilting her head again. "But look at the girl. She's alive Look at the air – you can't see it but it's there. Look at the shape of the arrow, how smooth it looks. There are _so _many things to look at in here, that it's a little unfair. It makes me sad because I can't look at absolutely everything, but I really am trying my best. Even the things I don't like, because there's bound to be something that I _do _like inside them. There are so many things to look at that it hurts my head a little bit, but it's all there and I'm not going to ignore it."

"That's such a cool way to think," the boy speaks up, smiling at the smaller girl. "Wish I could think like that."

"It's poetic, in a very nice way," I say, taking a step closer to the pair. "What are your names? I'm Klaus."

"Bentley," the boy tells me, sticking out a hand. I shake his hand, then hold one out for the girl.

"My name is Emeriday, Emeriday Linzbet," the smile from the beginning of our conversation stays on her face as she introduces herself, and shakes my hand excitedly. "Hey, did you know that your fingernails take six months to grow from base to tip?"

* * *

**District Nine**

**Elimaris Baker**

The pair from Two stand in front of me, not speaking to each but glancing at one another every so often. In that movement, when their eyes meet, you can just _tell _that they're communicating _somehow._

And then, behind me is the little girl from Seven. When I glance over at her, she throws a smile my way, but every time I ignore it. I don't understand why she's even doing it; we're not on our nightmarish district-themed chariots and we're not being interviewed. Why bother wasting her charm during Training? Of course, there's always the possibility that she's just 'naturally charming', but it didn't seem that way during her reaping.

I place a chicken sandwich onto my plate, along with a rather small bowl of warm soup and a glass of water. Then, I run to the nearest empty table as fast as I can. I don't want any allies, so that means I won't be sitting with anyone during lunch. Fine by me. As I'm about to take a bite out of my sandwich, someone plops down across from me. I set the sandwich back down on the plate, and lift my head to glare at the person.

The boy from Twelve. He's ignoring my existence, biting into a piece of fried chicken savagely and then chugging it down with water.

"Excuse me if I'm being rude, but why are you sitting here?"

He meets my stare, his eyes a little wide in what looks like surprise, but I know it's phony. "Me? There's nowhere else to sit, darling. I'm simply eating my lunch, and afterwards I'll be on my way. That alright with you?" The boy clearly isn't waiting for a response, so I don't give him one. Instead, I go into my usual mode, ignoring everyone around me as best as I can. Everyone that doesn't matter, at least.

But there is no avoiding the terribly awkward silence.

"Awkward." Twelve states, drawing out the word, before he tilts his head to look at me. "I'm not very good at conversation. I'm not a people person. And I don't exactly like you – no offense – and I don't really want to talk. At all. 'Kay?"

"I don't care." I say blankly, returning to my food.

After my sandwich is mostly gone and my water is nonexistent, Twelve speaks again. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Elimaris," I reply, bringing the spoon to my mouth and taking a sip. It's wonderful, really. There must be lemon in this, and probably some chicken flav –

"Rayvon," Twelve introduces himself, smiling mockingly before dumping his food down the trash. "Not that I particularly care, but we're going to be lunch-buddies from now on so I figured I should at least know your name."

"Tributes, lunch is over. You are now allowed to return to training."

"_Lunch-buddies_?" I spit out, my eyes narrowed into slits.

"Yeah," Rayvon says, patting my head once before walking off into the Training room.

* * *

**District Five**

**Tobias Evers**

I know I'm good for something in this center, I just haven't quite found it yet.

Maybe it's because I haven't _really _tried anything that I would actually be alright at. I was too terrified to draw attention to myself the first half of the day, but now I've reached the conclusion that there are only a few observers this year. Plus, I'm... well, me. They wouldn't think of a thirteen-year-old from Five as a threat, right? I don't think so. Not that I necessarily _am _a threat, but if I prove to be handy with something it could lead to complications. Bad complications or good complications, I'm not sure. There are a lot of things to consider, and you can't always tell if it would be bad or good. Like this; training at the trap-setting station could either gather too much attention and be a bad thing, or it could very well save my life whilst remaining mostly hidden. A fifty-fifty chance, and though I'm not one to take risks, I'll just have to chance it.

"May I please use those?" I ask the instructor quietly, pointing at a few useful-looking items. He looks unimpressed by me, but hands me the tools nonetheless. See? Counting me out so easily. That could either make me seem like a weakling, a target, or people could just ignore me completely.

Another risk. Two of my very first risks, both in one day... wow.

Once the things are in my possession, I immediately begin piecing them together. It's fairly easy; everything just fits together right. The way the items flow and click so naturally is quite a relief, since finally I've found something I clearly have a talent for. I don't pay much attention to the instructor, up until the point that first rather simple trap is almost complete, and he speaks. "How are you doing that?"

"It's easy," I reply, a smile making its way onto my face. About four minutes later, my hands gently set the trap onto the ground and fall limply to my side as I stare at it.

A light clapping sounds behind me, and I spin around to see a girl facing my direction. She's a little bit shorter than me, a little thinner, with wavy brown hair and considerably pale skin. After a moment's observation, I see that she's from Seven. She began crying during her Reaping, I'm pretty sure, but has seemed much stronger since then...

"Good job," she says, offering a sweet, small smile before taking a place in front of the instructor.

"Uh... thank you?" I respond in a terribly awkward manner, a bit stunned by the fact that someone has complimented me – another _tribute _at that.

"No problem." She focuses on the items in front of her, destined to become a trap similar to mine if she knows how to do it correctly. A bit nervously, she begins to piece it together. It's going smoothly, perhaps as smoothly as mine, until I notice that she's misplaced one piece.

But I don't alert her of the mishap. The girl needs to learn on her own, not from me.

Especially since I won't be there to tell her it's wrong in the arena.

A few moments later, she's done. But there's obviously something very wrong with the trap. It looks as if it's going to collapse, just because of that _one_ little switch. The girl notices this right away, though it isn't clear if she's upset or even remotely irritated by it.

_I can't tell her what's wrong... I can't tell her what's wrong..._

"You see, it's this one piece right here." I cave in, stepping over to the girl and her trap, and neatly taking the trap apart once I'm there. I hold up the tool that screwed the entire trap over. "It's supposed to go right here. But that's all that was wrong, so... good job."

My thoughts are scattered, furious at myself for lack of self-control and helping her. Now, if she doesn't understand the traps later on, it will be _me _to blame. _I _will be the cause of death, and I'll have to let that guilt remain inside me for however long I live afterwards. Or, if she survives longer than me, I'll still be the one to blame but I won't know I caused the death. Unless there's an afterlife, but my thoughts on that are still unsure.

My eyes dart around the room, anxious to find anything to settle upon other than this girl. And then, they do: Seven's district partner. Very small, about the same size as me... though his eyes are livid. As he continues to glare at me, I can practically feel the icicles he's trying to stab into my head. But the rest of him contrasts with his eyes. The rest of his face is soft, a light smile stuck permanently onto his lips, a rosy glow brightening his cheeks. He has his hands cupped in front of him. Absolutely darling, other than the eyes.

"Oh, thank you!" Seven says happily, a smile lighting up her face. She turns to me, white teeth radiant. "My name is Brynley, by the way."

"Tobias Evers," I state my name, wincing at the memory of my Reaping, in which one of my most consecutive bullies stood and managed to insult me with my very own name.

Brynley doesn't speak directly after I give her my name, glancing over at the traps station before returning her stare to me. "Great to meet you, Tobias." Her words come out with ease, and it's quite a change from the usual treatment. My name is usually spat out or hissed, never used in such a soft tone as Brynley's voice.

It's just _such _a change... wow.

* * *

**District Twelve**

**Kesha Greg**

"And then, Maddox, he's my friend, just threw a banana right across the room! It hit my dad square in the face while he was walking in trying to figure out what was going on!" Seraphine exclaims enthusiastically, holding her stomach as she laughs. I laugh, too, just not as loudly, since I don't want to distract Seraphine from her knife-throwing. She tosses it carelessly while she's laughing, though, and it doesn't even come _close _to the target.

"Sera, my darling, don't toss it while you aren't focused," I manage to giggle as I gently scold the girl, "That kind of defeats the purpose, after all."

Seraphine blinks a few times, realization striking her, before laughing. "Oh, yeah! It does, doesn't it? It's lovely that you reminded me, though, absolutely lovely. Thank you!"

She grabs my hand, and tugs it along as she runs for the climbing station. I don't know why she's in such a rush, but then again, Seraphine is quite energetic.

We take our places in line, behind the boy from Seven. A volunteer, much like myself. I don't know his reason for volunteering, and unfortunately I doubt I ever will. I don't want to bother him by asking; plus, it could bring up bad memories or something.

"Who's on it right now?" I ask Seraphine, craning my neck to try to get a view of the girl's face. All I can see is her hair, stick-straight and considerably long, covering up her face. She's tiny; the smallest one here I'm pretty sure. Seraphine studies her for a second, probably the longest she's been quiet since I've known her, before smiling. "Five, I think."

"Five," I repeat, watching as the girl gracefully climbs off the station, revealing her face and confirming that it's the girl from Five.

"Your turn, boy," the instructor grunts, shoving the boy from Seven onto the station. He's obviously not preparing to be handled that way, and stumbles as he tries to get a grip on the material, biting his lip nervously.

"He reminds me a lot of my sister," I speak up, talking to Seraphine though not directly.

"Is that who you volunteered for?" Sera asks me, obviously at least a little curious. "You did volunteer, right?"

"Well, I _did _volunteer, but not for Eve," I say, tripping a bit over my words. Odd, they usually come out rather smoothly.

"Then who?"

"A... a friend." Each word, each _letter_, is like a stab.

* * *

**District Seven**

**Cecis Jay**

I was about to have her. Brynley, I mean. I was about to have her, to put my charade to it's best, and watch as her life crumbled. To watch when she realized it was me. It would have all been good fun that I had been looking forward to until _he _came along. The Five boy. Damn him! He walked right up and took Brynley and now... I don't have one. Not yet... The boy from Three isn't a possibility; he's allied with the pair from Six. One of them from Four? The boy, with such a pale face, may have a lack of confidence... I'll look into it. I know absolutely nothing about the girl, other than the fact that she's rather tired-looking. The female from Five? No, she's much older than me, it wouldn't work quite right. Hm... Eleven? No, they're obviously allied together already, and I doubt the boy would let me in, being as stubborn as he is._  
_

Damn. Five has completely _crashed _my fun.

Of course, I could go on into the Games without a toy... but it wouldn't feel right. I'm used to being alone, that's true, but I feel as though these Games would be much less boring if I had someone to play with a bit.

Befriend. Show my false insecurities, shed emotionless tears and put on a dazzling performance. Then, once the Games arrive, grow dark... darker and dimmer until they think they've lost it, and at that moment I'd prepare the poison and slip it into their system... They'd pass without a sound. I don't know if they would be smart enough to realize it was me. Might be fun if they did. Try to catch me before their heart stops.

It would be spectacular. But no, I don't have anyone for now.

"Tributes, training is now over for today. Please walk to the elevators and return to your floor."

I drop the plant I was examining, retrieving my frightened, nervous face and wearing it so all the other tributes can see. _I'm scared. You all terrify me. I wanna cry, I wanna go home and see my mommy and daddy. _All those emotions, all of those precious emotions, painted so flawlessly onto my features that they'll believe it. Idiots, they are.

I scurry over to the elevator, though most of the tribute have already left with their partners. As I wait for the elevator to return to the training floor, I shift my glance to the ground and keep it there. People will think I'm self-conscious if I stare at the ground, and that's right among the lines I want them to be thinking.

"Cecis," Brynley's voice greets me, and I hear her footsteps coming up by me, though I don't look up at her. "How are you doing?"

"A-alright, what about you?" I lift my head, forcing tears to come in order to make my eyes glisten, meeting her large, pale blue ones.

Brynley takes immediate notice of my tears, but doesn't speak a word about them due to the elevator door opening. She takes my hand, leading me into the considerably small space. There's only us and the pairs from both Nine and Ten. The two from Ten are intimidating, to say the least. Both volunteers, the girl having an unnaturally calm, sly manner and the boy practically radiating arrogance. The girl from Nine is levelheaded, and the boy pretty reckless. The two contrast with each other, and don't seem to get along too well.

"I made an ally," Brynley whispers to me, a smile working its way onto her lips. I force on a smile that must seem genuine, since her grin grows wider.

"I'm happy for you," I say softly, the lie entering her brain as I squeeze her hand encouragingly. "Just _so _happy."

* * *

**District Two**

**Carver Molan**

"Thank the lord we're finally out of that hellhole!" I cry out once we arrive on our floor, running out of the elevator and throwing my arms out in glee. "I was about to kill all of those morons with those fancy-ass swords!"

"Plenty of time for that in the arena," Veeka points out dryly, picking up an apple from the snack table and taking a seat on the couch.

Instantly, I go to join her, partially because I've grown a bit fond of my district partner, but mostly since she's the observant type and I want to see if she's picked up much or still pending.

Veeka looks up from her apple-nibbling, narrowing her eyes at me. "What?"

"What?" I innocently repeat.

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

She closes her eyes, taking another small bite of her apple. "What is it, Carver?"

"Well, quite frankly, I wanted to see if you had any, like, information...?"

"On what?" Veeka smirks.

"The other tributes," I reply, declining the choice to smile at her. It isn't really a time for smiling, after all.

"Duh, of course I have." She gets up to get a glass of water, before turning towards the hall that leads to her room. I stand abruptly, holding an arm out in surprise. "Wait!"

Veeka turns around slowly, an irritated look plain on her face. "What is it now?"

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

She laughs. It makes my head pang; the cold, dry laugh that Veeka has. I've heard it a total of six times before, seven counting now. She uses it when taunting, mostly, like right now. "Sorry, _partner, _but I'm playing my own game. Focus on yours, okay, you big moron?" She doesn't phrase it like a question, and it definitely doesn't feel like a question.

_Fucking moron! _I mentally insult Veeka, though the word-choice isn't correct for her at all. Veeka's clever. She's smart, smarter than me, and _maybe _smart enough to win both her game and mine.

* * *

**Agh, god, so sorry it took this long to get this to you! **

**Though, I've gotten a laptop, I haven't gotten Word yet and had to type about three-quarters of this on the document manager. It. Was. Hell. Just - ugh, I hate writing on the document manager. **

**And another thing that may add to why this took so long: it's much longer than what I usually write. The longest non-Reaping chapter I've ever written, actually, at about five thousand words. I don't actually know why this is longer... *le shrug***

**Anywho, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year! I'll try to get the next chapter here much faster, kay? :D**

**~They're gonna rip up your heads, your aspirations to shreds; another cog in the murder machine. They say all teenagers scare the living shit out of me, they could care less as long as someone'll bleed. So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose. Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me~**

**Teenagers by My Chemical Romance**


	5. Kill Your Heroes

**Kill Your Heroes by AWOLNATION**

**Training Day Two**

* * *

**District Three**

**Roryss Belcort**

"Rory, time to wake up!"

I open my eyes wide, my worst fear confirmed when I see Klaus standing next to me with his big goofy grin. One hand is raised in mid-wave at me, though I definitely do not return the friendliness. I struggle to sit up properly, a bit disoriented from just recently awaking, but Klaus of course holds out a hand to help me up. Reluctantly, I accept it, but slap it away once I'm out of bed.

"Do you want to know what's for breakfast?" Klaus asks me, following me down the hallway. I ignore him, turning a corner and entering the dining room.

"Roryss, hello," I'm greeted by an array of different voices, but I don't respond to any of them. Why should I, really? I'm not in the mood to talk and nobody can make me.

"Breakfast?" I'm offered a plate full of bacon strips and ham but push it away, instead deciding to make my own plate of w_hatever _I want.

I grab a bowl, standing to look at all the different sorts of things that lie on the table. _Soup. _Yes, the soup looks fine to me. I fetch a ladle, dipping it under the yellowy liquid and dropping it into the bowl.

"Roryss, are you alright today? You seem a little... antisocial, to say the least." Klaus's mentor, Alston, says with a little smile. I let my full glare onto him, just knowing by the way he treats me that he doesn't like me. He probably requested to have Klaus, marking me off as mean or cold.

Which I am, but still.

It's different when someone actually acknowledges it. In a bad way, I mean. It would be fantastic for Klaus to see that I don't like him at all, but it's different in the matter of a mentor.

With the mentors and escort and everyone, it isn't the same thing because they all treat me based on first impressions. Klaus and I knew each other, though faintly, from back in the district whereas I have never even come face to face with the people over here, excluding perhaps a few moments of being in the same room as one of District Three's _beloved _mentors.

* * *

**District One**

**Annie Faith**

"Aren't you hungry, Annie?"

"Not necessarily," I reply, poking my eggs with the silver fork. It looks disgusting. These people look disgusting. _Everything _here looks disgusting.

My alliance reminds me of raw meat; uneven and shitty. Corduroy is a complete pushover, _totally _unfit for a volunteer from One. Veeka and Carver have some sort of unspoken pact, or at least that's what I've guessed since they're always near each other and have conversations just with their eyes. And then Lilianna and Trawl... they're useless. Absolutely useless. The only one actually doing anything right yesterday was _me. _

"Corduroy, I hope you plan on being a little less worthless today," I snap, shooting a glare at the boy. His eyes widen in surprise, but a smile sneaks onto his face.

"I'll try, dearest Annie," he responds, obviously not taking my request seriously. I narrow my eyes at him, stabbing with fork into the eggs angrily.

"There's no reason to be upset, sweetie," Corduroy's mentor, Krystal says, trying to calm me. "Really. You two must make do with what you have for your alliance, and anyway, I'm sure things will be much better today. Mostly everyone is at least a little timid on the first day."

I don't care. They should be working right _now, _they should have been working right _yesterday_!"Whatever."

I take one glance at the clock, dropping my fork onto the ground. "We should go now," I say, standing and pushing my chair in behind me. I start walking towards the elevator, not really caring if Corduroy is behind me or not. He'll catch up, even if he is a little later than me.

Pressing my finger onto the button, a bit forcefully, I hear Corduroy's footsteps behind me. The door opens, welcoming me into it, and Corduroy follows in suit.

A leader, _that's _what I am.

"Wee bit feisty, now aren't we?" Corduroy whispers into my ear. I elbow his stomach, my eyes drifting over the others in the elevator with us. The two from Nine, but that's all. The girl is standing straight up, robot-like, and staring at what seems to be nothing. The boy seems impatient, tapping his foot against the ground, anxious to reach the Training center.

"You can't hide eeeeeet," Corduroy giggles, drawing out the _i _in _it._

"What?" I snap my head over to him. What is he going to about now? I don't even know. I have no idea what he's going on about half the time, to be honest.

I'm all alone in this, aren't I?

* * *

**District Eight**

**Seraphine Ceren**

The girl from Five is small. That's all I can think about, her height. A girl seeming to be about three years older than me, yet half a foot shorter.

"She looks nice, I think." I muse, twirling a lock of red hair around my index finger, my smile bright.

"Doesn't she?" Kesha replies, the same sort of smile taking hold of hers. She steps forward, reaching her hand out as if she wants to touch the girl, but skips backwards. "We should go talk to her."

"Shouldn't we?"

I wave a little goodbye to the spear-station instructor, who seems a bit confused as to why I'm leaving without trying out the weapon. Hm, the girl from Nine is tyring out the spear. I wouldn't want to cut her time short by being on the waiting list, by being a _bother._

Five is standing alone, looking somewhat lost in the midst of the crowds. Friends are forming - alliances, I mean - and the poor girl just looks scared. I don't like when people are scared. I don't like being scared myself, really, but I don't matter as much. People matter. Friends matter, or allies, or whatever name you give them. To me, they're friends.

"Hi! Do you like talking?" I greet the girl, coming over and propping my elbow on her shoulder easily. "I like talking, a _lot_! Ask anybody! Well, not really anybody, but a lot of people in here. Even if I haven't talked to them, they have probably heard me. Coir would know, he talks to me. My mentor and escort would know, since they talk to me too. Lots of people talk to me! Do lots of people talk to you? I would assume so, since I just came over here to talk to you. You looked nice!"

She blinks. "Thank you."

"Do you want to join us? Please, it will be _so_ much fun, I promise!" I add something extra into my voice; my secret weapon, if you will.

I add the little bit of extra sweetness that I'm usually able to conjure up, the special thing that makes people happy. It makes me happy, when they listen to me. So that's why I use it!

* * *

**District Two**

**Veeka Golding**

I run forward, reaching the dummy in a matter of seconds. Without hesitation, I slash the neck, watching the the blade tear through the fabric as a grin slips onto my face. I slash again – again, again, _again. _I continue making long, clean cuts, having a _little _too much fun with it. Still slashing, I survey the chest-area of the dummy. The skin would be in shreds by now, wouldn't it?

Yes, that's enough. My wrist flicks, sending the knife spiraling through the air and planting itself into the heart of the dummy.

I turn on my heel, a victorious smirk forming on my face. I see the pissed-off face of Annie, her eyes narrowed into slits. Corduroy stands dangerously close to her, the sweet smile still intact. Lilianna and Trawl stand next to each other as well, deeming themselves a pair from what I can tell. And then Carver at the edges, giving me an encouraging little wave as I walk over to him.

"How was it?" Carver asks eagerly, an unnatural smile tipped on his lips.

"Fine." I reply in my usual monotone, though letting a little bit of warmth into it so he feels reassured. Carver likes knowing things, he likes being absolutely positive about things. Since I can't always give him the optimism, I at least try to _sound_ sightful.

I turn back to face the rest of our dear alliance, scrunching my face up in annoyance when I see Corduroy snatching up a knife. I don't like Corduroy very much; but then again, I don't exactly care about anyone's presence other than Corduroy's. Lilianna is alright, I suppose, but a bit more scared and skittish than the rest. They aren't bad traits, generally, but terrible for the Career alliance.

Corduroy makes Carver nervous. I don't like it when Carver is nervous, he's way too anxious and twitchy during those times for me to handle.

Since Corduroy and Carver are the only _real _male Careers in the alliance - no offense to Trawl - I suppose that it's a competition of sorts for them. Carver feels as if he must impress everyone more, as opposed to Corduroy, and vice versa.

It's a bit silly, but quite understandable.

I wonder why it isn't the same for Annie and me. I mean, perhaps it's all a competition in her mind, but I don't think like that. I think in a much more calm, proper fashion, whereas Annie's mind seems like a pit of fire and anger.

* * *

**District Eleven**

**Ivy Jones**

"Ivy?"

"Yes?" I whisper, gripping my fork whilst staring down at the macaroni and cheese. It's all yellowy, an unnatural shade for such a dish and I'm not really interested in eating it.

"Are you hungry?" Mouse asks me, shoving a forkful of rice into his mouse. He chews on the meal for about five seconds before swallowing and shoving more into his mouth. It's kind of funny how much he eats, though he obviously gains none of it. He's practically a rail, really, limbs incredibly thin and rather short as well.

"No." I reply quietly, a smile rising onto my face. Mouse laughs a little, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he continues on eating.

After a few moments of silence, I hear the _plops_ of trays and raise my head. Brynley and Tobias sit across from Mouse and me, Brynley wearing a blank expression and Tobias looking as if he's incredibly focused on something. He does that a lot, actually, I've noticed in the few hours I've spent with him.

"Hey Ivy, hey Toby," Mouse says breezily, giving a little wave to the two.

Brynley smiles, a bit weakly. "Hi, Mouse," she turns to me, "Hi to you as well, Ivy."

I nod as a greeting, not anywhere near gaining enough courage to speak. I don't like talking, quite frankly, and the pressure and constant judging from others doesn't help. I don't feel _comfortable _around people; Mouse is an exception.

He's different, than other people I mean. Mouse has his own faults, and he doesn't feel the need to judge others as harshly as people can.

Mouse makes me calm. He can stop me from being so flustered all the time despite having management issues himself, and I really do think that he likes me, not just being kind because we're stuck with each other.

We chose to be allies. We chose all of this.

* * *

**District Six**

**Emeriday Linzbet**

Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He was quite small, though still taller than me, and was absolutely adorable. His skin was as pale as snow, frail-looking and popping against dark colors. He had almost no color at all in his cheeks, never blushed nor got red in the face at all. The boy had smooth, neck-length dark brown hair that seemed to curl in on itself. His chin trembled, along with his body, and he looked terrified. He was scared, so very scared... except for his eyes.

His eyes were a dark, dark brown. They were wide, a bit angled, and filled with so much fury and hatred that it made me sad to look at them.

"Him, Bentley," I murmur, tugging on Bentley's shirt and pointing a finger out at the boy from Seven. "He's the one... I told you..."

"What one?" Bentley says, squinting his eyes in the direction of the plants station, landing on the boy. He recognizes him, yeah, but I don't believe he actually knows what I'm talking about.

I don't want to sound crazy so I stop talking.

"_Abracadabra_!" I shout out, bopping Klaus on the head and slipping into the splits whilst giggling all the way.

Klaus laughs along with me, holding out a hand for me to use as support. I take it, though I don't really need the help, it's an offer of kindness and I'll take any of that.

"Klausy, did you know that if we traveled at the speed of light, we would never die?"

"Really?"

"Yes," I say, pleased with the fact that he's interested. Interested, in me. In my knowledge. In all the fun, fun things I know! I do know a lot, I really do, and it's awful to have all of _this _overflowing your mind and absolutely no one to tell it all to.

That's why I treasure Klaus and Bentley; my friends.

"Bentley?" I turn to my district partner, grinning up at him and locking his arm in mine. "Did you know that slugs have three-thousand teeth and four noses?"

"Three-_thousand_?"

"That would be wonderful, don't you think?" Klaus muses, dropping the twigs he was working with and coming up beside you. "You would know practically everything, wouldn't you? Every tooth would respond to whatever it is you're eating differently, each nose, like, hyperactive or something. I don't know, it sounds _cool._"

That's like what I try to do, it really is.

I want to do so many different things at once. I want to smell every beautiful thing there is to smell. I want to hear every beautiful thing there is to hear. I want to taste everything on the planet, really. I want to touch all the fuzzy things and all the soft things and all the squishy things. And then, most of all, I want to see everything. I want to see wonderful things, but I also want to see the terrible things.

Because they deserve love too, don't they?

"Wish I were a slug."

* * *

**District Four**

**Lilianna Vansing**

Trawl and I stand side by side, close enough for one to assume that we're a pair but far enough apart for each other's liking.

Annie slices a dummy's neck open, and the white stuffing spills over the entire body of the thing. It wilts, head hanging low from lack of support and I curl up a bit tighter at the thought of that happening to _me_.

But, like always, the fear doesn't stop. It doesn't simply pass through me for one second, it has to keep on growing. Images fill my mind, the ones I want to get rid of, the ones I _don't _want to see. Fright smothers me, sinking into my head and my eyes and my ears and just everything. Everything is absolutely terrifying.

"Lili?" I breathe in sharply at the mention of my name, perking my head up to look at Trawl.

"Hi." I whisper, quickly standing back up on my feet.

"You're lucky they didn't see," his eyes drift towards the rest of the alliance, the ones from One and Two. They don't like us, it's obvious, but so far they haven't done anything too bad. They just... ignore us, really.

"I suppose I am," I sigh, letting my shoulders slump. "My luck is usually nonexistent, though."

Trawl's lips tilt into a little bit of a smile, but _just _a little bit. "We're alike in that way then, I guess."

I know of Trawl. I know of a lot of people in my district. I observe, I watch, but nobody really seems to notice me. That's lucky, it really is, but in a different sort of way. It's lucky in the shy, small sort of form that describes me exactly.

"Tributes, training is now over for today. Please walk to the elevators and return to your floor."

Trawl and I link hands automatically, trying our best to appear as a duo for everyone else to see once more. I don't really know when or why we decided to act as if we're so close, but so far it's built a barrier between us and everyone else. We can concentrate this way, and it really is a much better strategy than I had originally planned out.

But that is another story for another time. Believe me, I have _many_.

* * *

**I am sososoosbsjh sorry for this horrifically late update!** **One of my weaker chapters as well. Oh my gOd I'm terrible.**

**To make sure that this doesn't happen again, I hereby allow you all to spam my inbox telling me to update if the next chapter isn't up by the sixth of March :p**

**I have literally no excuse other than laziness, and asjfd I'm so sorry.**

**I have a new SYOT up, entitled Time to Pretend. I would love for all of you to submit, but it's completely alright if you can't/don't want top (y) I've heard that having two SYOTs going at once helps motivate you, so I'd like to try it.**

**Once again, I'm sorry ;_; **

**~I say you kill your heroes and fly, fly, baby don't cry. No need to worry 'cause everybody will die. Everyday we just go, go, baby don't go. Don't you worry, we love you more than you know~**

**Kill Your Heroes by AWOLNATION.**


	6. Author's Note

Dearest readers, I am sorry to say that I am putting this story on hiatus.

There are a lot of reasons why I'm doing this, but it's mainly due to personal issues and my health. If you want to know the specifics or anything, just message me privately.

I'm so sorry, and I have a lot planned for this story. I hope some day I'll be able to continue it.

If at one point I realize that I'm not ever doing to continue this, I'll post the victor and results and everything just so you all know what would have happened.

I'm going to start up Time to Pretend as best as I can, and hopefully keep that one going.

I'm sorry, and I hope you can all forgive me. I luffle you guys! :)

~The Light Holder


End file.
